Modern Day Don Giovanni: A Poem

Leaving Don Giovanni

 

91 in Turkey, 117 in Germany, 236 in France

Maid or lady, young, old

The list goes on

He had them all, and wanted more

 

Number 24, the summer of our youth

Tall, blond and from Norway

Like the nobleman’s conquests,

I, too, naïvely, gave my all

 

Donna Anna, Donna Elvira, and Zerlina

I get your pain and anger

A virility that seduces, he believes his love to be true

Alas, the one he loves is himself, not me nor you!

 

But all of me was not enough

Just more than he could handle

So off he went, or, just continued

Wanting more, wanting all.

 

Like his comical brother

His baritone voice boasts:

Non mi pento! Non mi pento!

Conscience has a price, you see

 

So, I take my leave

From the Don who had it all

Lest he die the scorching death

Of his pathetic comrade

 

Non mi pento…

As I walk out the door

Non mi pento

As I, too, want more.

 

Don_Giovanni_Playbill_Vienna_Premiere_1788 

 

Permission to be Free

Seeking permission to shed a role

I somehow ended up with, despite it all.

Yearning for a sign from this life or beyond

Telling me I can and must and will in time

Courageously peel the mask, the scars and the skin

Away in favor of a splendid metamorphosis.

***

But perhaps the permission must come from within

If I listen close to the voice of my intuition

The one imprinted on every fiber of my core –

Not the voice of my mother, lover, or friend

But rather that of the woman I have become,

True to herself, fully, honestly, even brutally.

***

A writer once called out to her sisters near and far:

“To write is to try to understand…to repeat the unrepeatable,

to write is also to bless a life that has not been blessed.”

And I say: you draw, she acts, he dances, I write; together we shall sing:

I give myself permission to heed my calling and find true beauty,

Dedicating this one life of mine to the joy of being free.

Free

(Inspired from an African folk tale as told by Sara DeBeer)